


Modern Love

by mollieblack



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, One Shot, Realistic, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollieblack/pseuds/mollieblack
Summary: What is love in 2018? Does it even exist anymore? Dan's not sure, but he can't seem to stop thinking about it. Maybe love can only find him when he's not looking for it... or is it an entirely outdated concept?





	Modern Love

Love. It’s such a strange concept. I feel like people understood it years ago. Or at least they accepted it. Love had its definitions - it was between a man and a woman and it led to marriage, then kids, and it withstood all. It was never broken, and once you’d given it to someone you’d never give that piece of you to anyone ever again. They were simpler times. Not better - just simpler.

 

Nowadays with all the dating apps, clubs, hookup culture, and more, love seems to have been forgotten. Love doesn’t generally end up resulting in marriage anymore, and even when it does, who knows if you’ll have kids, and the option for divorce is always in the air. Oh, and it’s 2018. Gender has basically been destroyed, so anyone saying it still has to be between a man and a woman is clearly living in a false reality.

 

I don’t know how I feel about it. I guess I like the idea of it - the concept. I’ve never been in love, but I love the idea of love. In books or movies - in stories I hear from the older generations - the few grandparents who still walk down the street hand in hand. That calls to me - but pursuing it for myself has never been a priority. 

 

Is it even possible anymore? Can two people find each other in this world of billions and commit their whole lives to just one another? Is it realistic anymore? The fantastical side of me wants to say yes, but that side hasn’t owned much space in my mind or heart for years. Most of me thinks it’s just not possible anymore. Or at least very unlikely. 

 

I’ve probably downloaded, deleted, and re-downloaded Tinder and every one of its competitors or knock-offs at least a hundred and fifty times. It always goes the same way. We talk for a bit and then either they say something or I say something and one stops responding. Or finally they get up the courage to ask me to meet in person and I get scared and delete the whole thing, only to start over two days later. Anyways, I’m fine without a partner. I don’t need someone else - I’m independent and capable by myself. I like being alone - I really do. I don’t know why I spend so much time thinking about love when the minute I’m around anyone I just want to go home and be alone again.

 

Maybe it’s the depression speaking. And don’t give me the whole ‘oh my god, you have depression? That sucks, I’m so sorry’ pity talk. Once again, it’s 2018. Everyone’s depressed. Either that, or they’re not paying attention to the world around them. I mean… the world might end within our lifetimes. So what’s the use of worrying about such a trivial thing as love?

 

Because it’s not at all trivial, and we know that. It’s just hard to rationalize. I don’t know why I’m going on this loop again - I talk myself in circles each and every day at least twenty times about the same silly argument that has no right answer. I’m not even sure of the question I’m asking myself. All I know is this espresso is burnt and I’ll obsess over the number that brunette girl at the register wrote down next to my name on the cup, but I’ll never call. Maybe I’ll text her - three days later when she’s forgotten about me. We’ll talk for a little bit but soon realize it’s just the same conversation we’ve both had a million times, and we have no real idea of how to get to know each other. Do we even know who we are? 

 

I won’t call her. I take one more sip of the coffee that makes my face twist up in disgust at the bitterness, then ensure she’s not looking as I toss it in the garbage can and leave the cafe. It’s raining outside - no surprise there. The streets aren’t busy per say, but everyone is rushing, umbrellas over their heads as they speed-walk with their faces turned down, so I need to be careful of where I go, making sure not to run into anyone. I don’t have an umbrella and my hair is beginning to soak through, but I don’t care. I need to do laundry and take a shower anyways, it doesn’t matter if I get soaked to the bone.

 

I walk down the streets and avoid the people hurrying by, until I reach my building. Four flights later and I’m out of breath, cursing my physique and promising myself I’ll make it to the gym soon, even though I know I’m lying to myself. It’s not like I have a membership anywhere - I don’t even know what ‘gym’ I’m referring to in my mind when I tell myself that, yet I still make the promise to myself every day, just to break it the next. It’s tradition. A ritual. It would feel wrong to stop now. 

 

I get to my door and frown, noticing a small box in front of my door. It’s just a cardboard amazon box, but it’s clearly been opened, and packages don’t get delivered to my doorstep. I pick it up and open it slowly, the sound of cardboard filling the emptiness. The smallest of smiles flickers on my lips as I see a tupperware container filled with cookies inside, and a little note; a piece of paper folded in half with the word  _ ‘Neighbor’ _ scrawled a bit sloppily on the front. 

 

I set the box down to unfold the note and read the paper, my small smile growing just slightly as I read.

 

_ Hello neighbor! I’m new to the floor and just wanted to say hello with some cookies! I promise I’m not trying to poison you - that comes later when you play loud music at 3am on a Tuesday night. Kidding! But really - I’m new to London and it’d be great to get to know the people around me. Hope I can meet you one of these days! I’m in 408 if you ever want to stop by and say hello :) _

_ -Phil _

 

Sighing, I return the letter to its box and pick it up, fishing my key out of my back pocket and unlocking the door. It’s a nice gesture. I saw a few other boxes in front of other peoples’ doors. It was a handwritten note - I wonder if he wrote the same thing on all of them. Either way, it’s an old fashioned gesture, but a sweet one. Almost like a small reminder of the way things used to be - never in my lifetime, but how I’ve heard they were. When people actually spoke to their neighbors and you accepted cookies from strangers.

 

I contemplate eating the cookies - his joke about poison makes me feel like they’re probably innocent. Still - this is 2018. You can’t be too careful. I appreciate the smell of them for a moment and smile at the letter - taking it out of the box and setting it on my counter before heaving a sigh and dumping the box in my trash can. It’s not out of unappreciation - it’s just not worth the risk. 

 

A cup of actual good coffee (why do I even go to the cafe - it’s expensive and I can make it better at home) and two episodes of Black Mirror later, I find myself on a job listings page. It’s not a new place for me. I find myself here every night lately - though tonight I don’t put myself through the torture of also checking my account balance. That’s too scary and I don’t think I can deal with the anxiety today. At least I have a week until rent is due. I should barely have enough to get my through to next month, and hopefully by then I’ll have a job. 

 

I scroll through pages and pages of offers - few of which I’m qualified for or close enough for it to be realistic. Finally I shut my laptop, having sent my resume out to three new places. Well, two technically. One is a little restaurant I’d already applied to a week ago, but they haven’t gotten back to me, so I figure a little persistence can’t hurt. 

 

I’m not sure when I fell asleep - just that it was only the afternoon then, and now it’s dark outside. I sigh and pull out my phone, squinting as the bright screen blinds me momentarily. 12:48. I got nearly a full night’s sleep, and it’s not even night yet. I shrug it off - what does it matter when you’re unemployed and live alone? You can be as nocturnal as you want… I suppose. 

 

The world around me feels heavy - I know it’s the depression. I know it well enough to tell the difference between that and something actually being wrong. Still, it doesn’t make it go away. The entire atmosphere surrounding me feels heavy and slow, and though I don’t necessarily feel sad - more just tired without wanting to sleep - I can feel tears behind my eyes that have no logical reasoning to be there. 

 

Once again, I live alone. So when the tears begin to form and spill over I just sit there, sniffling occasionally. When my nose begins to run I sigh and walk to the bathroom, pulling out a fresh tissue box from under the sink and returning to my sofa in the lounge, leaning against the backrest and allowing my sniffles to become full sobs, having no idea what’s taken over me, but overwhelmed by the weight settling over me. 

 

When I hear a soft knock at my door I freeze, the tears stopping momentarily as my eyes go wide, watching the door as if it’s about to jump out and attack me. When another knock follows quietly, followed by a whispered “You alright in there?” I jump into action, blowing my nose and wiping the tears from my cheeks, tiptoeing to the door. I peek through the peephole - remember it’s 2018 - can’t be too careful. On the other side is a man with black hair and glasses, standing there with his arms wrapped around himself. He’s probably cold - he’s just in his pyjamas and he’s looking around him, his head warped to be quite large by the glass in the peephole. 

 

Sighing, I open the door finally, clearing my throat and trying to act as if I hadn’t just been bawling my eyes out for reasons unknown even to me. 

 

“Hey… are you alright? I thought I heard someone crying.” The man whispers gently and I cough, a bit of phlegm built up in my throat from the whole ordeal. 

 

“Oh uh… yeah I’m fine.”

 

“Okay. Sorry to bother you I just… figured I should check.”

 

“Yeah. No, no problem at all. Thanks.” I give him a small lackluster smile, but I’ve never been able to be downright rude to strangers. 

 

“I’m Phil.” He gives a small smile. He doesn’t extend a hand to shake and I’m grateful for it - handshakes always feel so formal and forced. 

 

“Dan.” I respond, and he frowns a bit, looking intently between my eyes.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Dan? I don’t want to pry - just… If you need someone to talk to. I’m quite the night owl, and I don’t have anything else to do.”

 

“Right… you’re the new one in the building, right? You made cookies?” I ask, trying to avoid his questioning of my emotional state. 

 

“Yeah. They’re probably a bit burnt - I’ve never been the best baker, but I wanted to do something, you know? I mean… I liked them, but I don’t know. I would have had them with milk, but I just moved in today and I don’t really have anything in my kitchen yet.”

 

“Right.” I respond, then sigh, because I know I’ll regret it, but once again I’ve never been able to show anyone bad manners, so I take a deep breath before opening my mouth once again. “Would you like to come in? I have tea and coffee - food if you’re hungry. I just got up from a nap so you won’t be keeping me awake.”

 

“Really?” Phil asks, and I can see by the childlike excitement in his eyes that he’s hoping I’ll say yes so I give a small nod and open the door to let him in, closing it behind him. 

 

“I’d generally apologize for my apartment being a mess, but I actually just cleaned the other day so it’s not too bad for once.” I chuckle lightly as I lead him to the kitchen. I’m a bit hungry myself so I pull out a frozen pizza from the freezer, lifting it up between us. “Pizza?”

 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take your food-”

 

“Certain. I’m bad with leftovers and I really shouldn’t eat the whole thing by myself anyways.” I smile, and when he grins back I rip open the box and get the oven preheating. 

 

He tells me he wants coffee so I brew some more, making myself a cup as well as him. When the oven’s preheated I put it in and he takes the plastic wrap to throw it away. When he lifts the garbage lid I wince internally, realizing what he’ll see right on top. Sure enough he lets out a small laugh and puts the plastic in, sighing as he lets the lid close. 

 

“Right. Sorry just - it’s 2018. I hadn’t met you - I just-”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” He reassures, shrugging. “I probably would have done the same.” I smile and relax a bit as he frowns for a moment, looking off to the corner of the room. “Actually… I probably would have ate them. But I’m way too trusting - you chose the smart option. You’ll just have to let me make you another batch sometime.”

 

“You really don’t have to. It’s not your fault I threw them away.”

 

“No, I know. But you’re making me coffee and pizza. All I really have in my kitchen right now is stuff to make cookies and some dry cereal - baking’s a good pastime as I look for a job. Do you think you’d trust a batch now?”

 

“I think so.” I chuckle, rolling my eyes a bit at him as I lean against the counter. Silence fills the room for a few moments before he bites his lip and looks to the floor. 

 

“Um… You don’t have to answer if you don’t want… but why were you crying earlier?”

 

“Oh.” I respond dumbly before taking a deep breath and letting it go, shrugging my shoulders as I examine a tile on the kitchen floor. “Just one of those days, you know? I live alone so I didn’t think I’d be bothering anyone…”

 

“Right. Sorry - I probably should have just left you.” 

 

“No - no, really. It was a pretty dramatic pity party for a second there, trust me it’s good you stepped in.” We make eye contact and both chuckle a bit before silence takes over once again.

 

“So… you don’t have a roommate? That must be nice. I just moved into someone’s spare room and I already know it’s not gonna be easy. They labeled everything that’s theirs in the kitchen before I moved in, and they don’t give me more than two word answers before finding a reason to go to a different room.”

 

“Yikes - I’m sorry. I had a roommate for a while, but he moved out about a month ago. I decided to convert his room into an office - I’ve been trying to find a way to work from home… but it hasn’t been going so well. I finally gave up about a week ago and started putting out job applications - money’s running tight.”

 

“Yeah, London’s not cheap.” Phil agrees with a chuckle and I nod. The oven dings and I open it up, putting on a mit and taking out the pizza, switching the oven off and cutting the pie into slices. 

 

“Plates are in the upper left cabinet over the sink.” I instruct and Phil nods, getting out two plates, and I deposit two slices onto each one. We move to the lounge and I turn on a show as background noise as we make our way through our mugs of coffee and the pizza. We learn a little about each other - Phil just moved from Manchester and he’s wanting to get a job in some sort of entertainment industry. He loves milky coffee and animals, but is allergic to both. He likes horror movies but has a very childlike wonder about the world around him, and a distaste for anything mean or cruel. He seems to be a walking contradiction, but I listen as he talks and I’m surprised at how easy it is to be with him. 

 

It’s so hard to get to know people nowadays - so why is it that when he leaves with a small smile and a thanks for the food, I feel like I already know who he is? I have a strange sense of knowing that I’ll be seeing him again, and that when I do it won’t be so much him teaching me to know him, rather him coloring in the picture that I already see there. 

 

I smile back at him and watch him go before shutting my door, sighing and washing up the mugs before brushing my teeth and climbing into bed. I open my phone and by instinct click on the tinder app. After about five swipes left I realize my heart isn’t in it and I haven’t even been looking at the profiles, so I lock my phone and turn to my side in bed, taking in a deep breath and releasing it, shutting my eyes. I’m not gonna find someone on an app to fill the strange emptiness I feel in my life. Not tonight, at least. 

 

Because love doesn’t work that way… does it? It doesn’t happen through people judging a photo of you and a small piece of text that you think represents ‘you’, then trying to prove yourself to be that person as you chat, knowing full well that you’re both having these same conversations with ten other people at the same time. No, love happens in real life. Love is easy, and it finds you when you’re not looking for it. Well, I feel like I’m always looking for it even when I don’t want to be… maybe love just isn’t in the cards for me. If it’s even real.

  
  
  
  


I don’t know how it happened. The next day he was asking for a paperclip and ended up coming in to look at job listings with me, the day after that we went into the city to drop off resumes in person. After that he wanted to show me a new diner he found that had apparently just opened up nearby, and after that there wasn’t really a reason, we just started texting each other to come over. 

 

It’s been a week now, and I see Phil every day. He’s supposed to be coming over in just a few minutes, actually. I think he likes coming over here more than being at home with his roommate - they’ve been pretty aloof, and seem to make him uncomfortable. I’ve learned how to make his coffee just the way he likes it, and I have it waiting before he even shows up now. He’s learned how to make me laugh, and it’s strange. I haven’t laughed so much in a long time. That sounds traumatic and like there’s some tragic backstory going on, but there isn’t. I’m just a kind of sad guy, and I don’t laugh a lot usually.

 

Now he’s knocking at the door and I quickly check my hair in the mirror by my door before opening it and letting him inside, smiling a hello. He’s brought cookies with him - it’s the third batch he’s brought this week, and unless it’s a really slow-going killer, none of them have been poisoned. 

 

I have a job interview the next day and he’s waiting to hear back from an agency, so we decide to forgo the job search for the day and just hang out. 

 

“So Alex started putting labels on their stuff in the bathroom today.” He sighs as he takes a sip of his coffee, leaning back against the sofa. 

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“Nope. They really hate my guts. And I only used their toothpaste once. Once! It was the middle of the night and I didn’t have my glasses on.”

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

“It’s alright. At least I can come over here to get away.”

 

When the idea comes to me, it escapes my lips before I can give it a second thought - something that never happens to me unless I’m around Phil, and that scares me a bit. 

 

“You should move in with me!”

 

“Huh?” Phil’s eyebrows have raised high on his forehead and I immediately backtrack. 

 

“Sorry! I mean… not if you don’t want to. I just thought - rent is steep for me especially without a job, and I have an extra room…” 

 

When Phil doesn’t respond at first my stomach sinks. We’ve only known each other for a week. What was I thinking with that suggestion? He takes a sip of his coffee then sets it down on the coffee table, biting his lip and keeping his gaze trained on the mug as his fingers lace together. 

 

“I’d really like that… there’s just one possible issue.”

 

“What is it?” I ask, and I don’t know why my heart is beating so fast in my chest, but maybe the caffeine isn’t a good idea right now so I set my mug down alongside his.

 

“I mean… that moving in with someone you have a crush on is probably a bad idea.” He finally speaks, and my eyes go wide. 

 

“Wait… you mean…”

 

“It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to say yes… without you knowing…”

 

“Right.” I respond, my head spinning. A crush? Phil? On… on me? 

 

“So… yeah.” He lets out a small laugh and I join, shifting in my seat. What do we do now? Neither of us seems to know so he just sighs and grabs his mug, sitting back against the couch. “Um… Parks and Rec?”

 

“Sure, yeah.” I agree, tension crackling in the air as he turns on the TV. “Wait… no.” I finally choke out, my entire body feeling hot and tingly as my thoughts run faster than I can keep up with. “Um… can I just…” I shift and take his mug from his hands, Phil’s cheeks flushing as he looks up at me, pale blue eyes wide, his lips parted in an open expression. 

 

His cheek feels cold under my palm and I realize it’s probably sweaty and I should have wiped it off on my jeans, but it’s too late now and I look between his eyes until he gives a small nod and I lean in. 

 

Our lips only brush before we pull apart and let out a whoosh of nervous giggles, hands covering mouths as we fall away from each other and take in the reality of what just happened. 

 

“Yeah… we might have some stuff to work out before you move in.” I giggle and he nods, a gleam in his eyes as he smiles back. 

 

“Maybe just a bit.” 

 

My heart flutters as we turn back to watch the show, this time with fingers laced together and my head resting on his shoulder as a pillow. 

  
  
  
  


A week later and boxes are being moved into my apartment - it’s soon and we both know it, but I have an extra room and we’re determined to make sure that if this doesn’t work out, we stay friends and can have our own spaces. We’ve taken it slow and we don’t have a label - it’s 2018, who has labels before nearly a year of dating now, anyways? 

 

I don’t know if I believe in love anymore. At least not in the way that people believed in it years ago. But this is something, and it’s something real. And I think I’m okay with only knowing that for now. Maybe years later I’ll tell my grandchildren about how I met their grandfather and how we fell in love. Maybe in two weeks I’ll be dealing with an awkward living situation when we realize we aren’t made to be together. Maybe we’ll get married, maybe we’ll destroy each other. 

 

All I know is that whatever happens, it’ll have been worth the risk.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you get a mentally ill and slightly apathetic author who is feeling extremely contemplative and not quite in her normal writing atmosphere or mood, but feels guilty for abandoning her readers for so long and wants to get out a quick piece even if she's not quite well enough and doesn't really have the time to actually come back yet. Hope you can enjoy this, and sorry I've been gone. It'll probably still be awhile before I'm truly back, but just know that I love all of you. I probably won't be able to find the time to respond to all the comments I've gotten since I left on hiatus about a month back, but just know I read them all and appreciate each and every one <3


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